44 



Birds & Nature Magazine 



Photographing a Hawk^s Nest 



By WILLIAM I. FINLEY 



IN the summer of 1898, while passing 

 up the Columbia river on a fishing 

 trip, we heard of a hawk's nest in a cer- 

 tain grove of cottonwoods. In spite of 

 long and patient search, we failed to find 

 it; the foliage was too dense. Early the 

 next spring, before the leaves were out, 

 we returned to the grove and discovered 

 the nest near the top of a tree one hundred 

 and twenty feet high. The tree measured 

 over fourteen feet in circumference at the 

 base, and the nearest limb was forty feet 

 from the ground. 



Eight feet below the nest, and on the 

 south side, the trunk of the tree branched 

 in such a way that the camera could be 

 fastened a little above the nest on the op- 

 posite limb, in a good position for a picture, 

 and w^ith the sunlight coming from the 

 right direction. To focus the camera, the 

 photographer must strap himself to the limb 

 and hang out backv/ard over a sheer drop 

 of one hundred and twenty feet. It was 

 impossible for us to do anything that sum- 

 mer, but the next winter we laid our plans. 



Early in the spring, writes Mr. Finley 

 in narrating the story in "Country Life," 

 our expedition was encamped before the 

 great tree. A small cottonwood stood near 

 by. With great care we chopped and 

 sawed until it began to totter. With wedges 

 we forced it over. There was a moment 

 of intense anxiety as it started on its down- 

 ward course ; and then we saw its crown 

 lodge in the crotch of the first large limb 

 of the nest tree, full forty feet above the 

 ground. 



The felled tree now formed an aerial 

 bridge, leading a third of the distance to 

 the nest. Up this wt clambered. The rest 

 .of the climb was hard and dangerous. We 

 dug our climbing irons into the bark, 

 lassoed the limbs above, and slowly made 

 our way upward until, at last, we peered 

 into the nest and discovered two large eggs, 

 dull white and mottled with chocolate. It 

 was an exciting moment. 



Surely, a grander aerie was never chosen 

 by any hawk! From where the mother 



brooded over her eggs she could look 

 straight up the Columbia river to where 

 Mt. Hood lifted its rugged snow-clad peak. 

 To the westward stretched a long line of 

 ponds and lakes — the hawk's favorite hunt- 

 ing-ground. To the north the broad Col- 



On the Lookout 



umbia spread its expanse of waters, and in 



the distance loomed the dome-like peak of 



St. Helen's, gleaming with perpetual snow. 



On the 19th day of April, when the nest 



